Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Forty-One: The Circle Broken

HERO FALLEN:

SIRIUS BLACK LIES NEAR DEATH

October 6, 1992

by Charles Li, Special Correspondent

Upon Avalon, the Aurors' island of mystery, the Wizarding World's

latest hero lies dying. With St. Mungo's healers being rushed

to the island and seven other Aurors already confirmed dead, it

seems that Wizarding Britain's ancient protectors are finished.

At least eight additional Aurors lay critically wounded, yet Black

appears to be the worst off.

Trainee Healer Augustus Pye was one of the first summoned to

Avalon when word of the Aurors' heartbreaking defeat reached

St. Mungo's. "They're a mess," the young wizard said when sent

back to the hospital to fetch supplies. "Nearly every one of them

is injured, but Black is the worst... He looks dead on his feet and

shoved us towards the other Aurors first. It's as if he knows he's

going to die."

Rumors creeping off of Avalon indicate that Black faced He-Who-

Must-Not-Be-Named once again, surviving the experience by a

hair. Accompanying him were every single active duty Auror,

save Hestia Jones and Jason Clearwater (who are currently

escorting Minister Pettigrew on a diplomatic mission to an

undisclosed country). This massive force attacked one of He-

Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's oldest strongholds: the Riddle

House in Little Hangleton.

Attacked and failed. Seven dead. Nine seriously wounded,

including the man who has been hailed as the Wizarding World's

best and last hope. Where will it go from here? Who will die?

Should Black fall, who will pick up the mantle he must drop?

Dead Critically Wounded

Striker Williamson Sirius Black

Mucia Coleman Francine Hoyt

Alain Brittingham Derek Dawlish

Edward Ackerly Kingsley Shacklebolt

Randall O'Keely William Weasley

Erika Goldstein Terry Scott

Nicole Madley Gabriel Binns

Clara Smythe

Missy Erickson

--------------

"You WHAT?" Alice Longbottom thundered, cornering the hapless trainee healer. Pye stood against the stone wall of EmergApp, cowering as the brown-haired witch twisted her wand in tighter against his neck.

"Alice..." her husband warned tiredly. "It isn't worth it."

"The hell it isn't!" she snapped, swinging to glare at Pye again. "What in the name of Merlin were you thinking, boy? The Daily Prophet?"

"At least it wasn't Skeeter," Dana muttered darkly, looking almost as unhappy as her Mentor and not moving an inch to help the healer.

"Ally..." Slowly, Frank reached out and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, forcing her wand arm down and pulling her away. "Let the boy do his job. The article's probably in print already, and all yelling at him can do is endanger the wounded."

She slumped tiredly against him without argument. "I just...Wait a minute. Where did Sirius go?"

--------------

One was blood red, and the other silver--neither of which were safe colors for potions in the Wizarding World. Things that bubbled were much more normal, but potions that kept bubbling an hour after they'd stopped brewing were rather unique. So were potions that took an entire week at high temperatures to brew.

Sirius sighed and sank down onto a stool, feeling bones crunch and crack as he did so. It hurt, but at this point he was almost beyond pain--little mattered. His heightened senses told Sirius that his body was disintegrating, falling apart...and he could feel every moment of it. Every time he coughed, blood came up. Every time he moved, the world spun.

I'm dying. I really am.

He had not thought it would be this painful. Really, he hadn't. Every damn author wrote about how peaceful dying had to be--as if they knew anything. It wasn't peaceful, and there certainly wasn't any white light shining in his eyes. Every now and then, blackness would eat at the edges of his vision, making Sirius sway dizzily on his stool, but there wasn't anything white or pretty about it. And there wasn't anything soft, or cushiony, or squishy either. There was only pain.

Still, he stared at the potions, wondering if it was worth it. That was an odd thought for a man who had spent ten years fighting death back on a daily basis, living for friends he'd sworn to protect and whom he would never abandon. But was this worth the price he'd have to pay? Perhaps he should go see the healers. There was a chance that they might heal him without such a terrible cost.

And what then? Sirius berated himself. Do I wait a week, or maybe two, and then do this anyway? The potions were still bubbling, even the one that didn't have a name. That one, of course, didn't mean nearly as much as the Augeosensus Solution, but it was still dangerous. Any potion that included a mixture of powdered Unicorn horn and Muggle blood was bound to be something a sane wizard wouldn't take. Yes, and a smart wizard is going to take the one that is made up of phoenix blood, cobra venom, black hellebore and liquid aconite, Sirius thought caustically, wanting to slap himself.

The room spun, and he realized that he was drifting. And I don't even know if the Augeosensus Solution will heal me, Sirius realized abruptly. Only that it's supposed to be regenerative and heighten my senses. As if the Conmalesco hadn't done that already, even if it was only supposed to increase the flow of magic he could feel and shorten his reaction time. That potion had worked nicely, of course, if one disregarded the consequences.

"You don't have time for this, Padfoot," he whispered to himself, wishing that the important decisions in life could be just a little more simple.

He coughed again, spraying blood all over the work table. A little bit of it crept into the Augeosensus Solution, but from all Sirius had read about that one, a bit of blood certainly wouldn't hurt. In fact, it'll probably make the damn thing more potent. Sirius wheezed, and felt something rattle in his chest. Bad. He almost chuckled at his own stupid thought, but the laughter became lodged in his throat and would not come out. Coughing more did not help, and the world spun faster. Blinking had no effect.

"Get it over with," he wheezed, and reached for the first potion. He missed.

A third cough made Sirius double over in pain, and he grabbed for the Augeosensus Potion. Damn the consequences--he'd have to deal with them later. Unless it killed him, he'd be a good deal better off than he was at the moment.

It tasted like acid going down...but maybe that was just his bleeding throat. When it had started bleeding, Sirius had no idea, but it had to be. Nothing else burned like that.

His eyes watered, and Sirius collapsed.

By the time he hit the floor, his body was numb. Blackness came soon after.

--------------

He awoke when the pounding on the door reached a feverish pitch, matched by the screaming hammer beating at the insides of his skull. Sirius groaned and tasted stone, only then realizing that he was face down on the floor of Lab Six. On the floor and shaking.

Bang. Bang. BANG. "Sirius?" Alice Longbottom's voice, frayed and worried. "Sirius!"

Groaning, Sirius picked himself up off of the floor, spitting out dust. His arms shook with the effort of raising his upper body, and the world threatened to spin once more--and then slowed. Stilled. He blinked and hauled himself to his knees.

"SIRIUS!" Frank bellowed from somewhere outside the door, and Sirius finally found his voice.

"I'm here." He coughed and tasted the Augeosensus Solution all over again. It burned.

"Open the door!" Alice shouted, sounding frightened and angry.

Shakily, Sirius rose, almost tripping over the stool on the way up. He started to turn towards the door, then caught sight of the other potion, still bubbling on the worktable. Deep breath. Face it now or hide forever. There wasn't much of a choice to make, really. If the Augeosensus Solution hadn't killed him, a simple--if dark--memory enhancer certainly wouldn't.

"Give me a sec," he mumbled, his mouth dry. He doubted the potion would help any, but that didn't matter. Not anymore. Sirius downed the potion in a gulp, then walked unsteadily towards the locked door. He was surprised how easy walking turned out to be.

"Open it now, Sirius." Frank's voice was colder than Sirius had ever heard it before, frozen and demanding.

"Coming." His mouth was still dry, and his steps unsteady. There was not, however, much pain, and that was different. How long was I out? Sirius wondered tiredly, feeling exhausted but better. Breathing no longer burned.

He opened the door and came face to face with two angry Longbottoms. Obviously, they'd been pounding on the door for awhile.

"Hi," he said weakly.

"You're healed," Alice said abruptly, and Sirius unconsciously glanced down at his body. He started to open his mouth, not sure what excuse he was going to use, but--

Suddenly, two wands were in his face, and Sirius realized that he hadn't cast the concealment spells he was always careful to use before employing Dark Magic. The taint was seeping around him so strongly that it made his skin crawl, and judging from the looks on both Frank and Alice's faces, they felt the same way. Alice's eyes widened, and she started to speak, but her husband beat her to it.

"What have you done to yourself, Sirius?" Frank demanded.

His heart was beating at an abnormally steady rate, nothing like before. "Do you mind pulling your wands out of my face?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Yes," both replied at once, and he shrugged.

"Have it your way."

"What have you done, Sirius?" Frank repeated harshly.

The words touched his lips--for a moment, he almost wanted to tell the truth, to someone, to anyone, just to get it out in the open. A desperate longing for someone to understand rose in Sirius' heart, and he hesitated as it hit him; the feeling was alien, out of place. Yet he suddenly wanted to reach out to these people...not to those whom he should have spoken. I am sorry, he thought abruptly. So sorry.

"Survived," his mouth said for him.

"How?" Alice demanded.

Sirius tried to smile, but his face would not form the expression. "Old magic," he said softly.

"Dark magic." Frank's eyes were wide.

"Yes."

He shouldered his way between the Longbottoms, and neither hexed Sirius as he walked away.

--------------

"This is it, then," Jean said softly, shaking Peter's hand.

The smaller man nodded. "I'm sure I'll see you again."

"You will." The French Auror grinned suddenly. "And much sooner than you think."

"Wha--"

"Wait and see, Peter," Jean interrupted him gently. "Or, as a famous French author would have said, 'wait and hope'."

"Good words," Peter replied, finally feeling as if he'd accomplished something. Time and time again, he'd asked James why he was doing this job. Sure, he was one of the most experienced negotiators left at the Ministry, but he was hardly the most persuasive. Now, though...they were here. And it was done.

"Better still were yours earlier." The other smiled. "And I apologize for acting as I did...but we had to be sure. You understand?"

"I do." Jones and Clearwater were shifting impatiently behind him--ever since hearing of the Riddle House Raid, both Aurors had been worried and jumpy. Peter understood, of course; the news had shocked him, too, and had an even more devastating impact upon the French. Within moments of Peter's explanation of the Mark, Jean had simply decided that Les Aurors Spéciales would aid their British counterparts, and Peter had then realized how much power the commander of all French Aurors held in their world.

Président Legarde had come around soon after that, and now their collective feet were set firmly on the road of cooperation. For once, Wizarding Britain did not have to fight on their own. This would not be another war against Grindelwald, which all came down to one man standing alone against the darkness.

In a storm, Remus had said, and he'd confessed to Peter once that it frightened him to death. Just once, the three untouched Marauders had met--deep in the night and terrified that Sirius would see it as a betrayal of sorts. Peter had Apparated back from France to do so, sneaking out behind Jones and Clearwater's backs (both seemed to think of him as some slow-minded wimp, which was just fine by Peter). And two nights ago, they had made a choice. They had to talk to Sirius, and they had to do it soon.

Peter swallowed, trying not to think about the copy of the Daily Prophet that had arrived only seconds before their final meeting. He hadn't had time to read anything but the headline, and worry made his chest constrict. I hope we have time, he thought desperately. Please give us the chance.

"Bonne chance, Peter," Jean said, letting go of his hand. "And I hope your friend recovers."

"Thanks." Now he had to force the smile. "I hope so too."

--------------

Fudge was already in full swing, though he'd been in the study for less than two minutes. "I can't believe you let this happen! What were you thinking, allowing that arrogant, hotheaded imbecile to--"

"That arrogant and hotheaded imbecile being me, I assume," he said lightly, letting the door click shut at his back.

"Sirius!" James' head came up immediately, and some of the painful patience he'd been wearing disappeared immediately. Obviously, the Minister of Magic had been enjoying another talk with his favorite department head, and looked too exhausted to bother fighting back.

"Beautiful morning, Prongs. Why aren't you outside enjoying it?" Sirius replied amicably, then jerked his head towards Fudge. "And why isn't this bastard there as opposed to being in my house?"

Fudge's mouth dropped open, but James snorted grimly. "Good question."

"Yes. It is." Sirius was still stiff, and felt strangely cold for early October--his walk down Grimmauld Place had left him shivering, despite the fact that the weather was rather temperate. Still, he didn't like Fudge, and in Sirius' present state, that was enough reason to be angry.

But he checked the feeling back with an effort, knowing that James didn't need two department heads getting into a pissing contest, especially now. Doing so was hard, though; the stiffness translated into pain, and Sirius was more exhausted than he'd like to admit. He'd been up for over thirty hours, and his hands wanted to shake with pain and fatigue, wanted to reach out and strangle someone because they could. I need sleep, Sirius thought distantly, but knew that wasn't exactly true. He needed a lot more than sleep.

"Are you all right?" James asked quietly, studying Sirius closely.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Stiff...but surviving. It wasn't as bad as the Prophet reported." It was worse.

James seemed to read those words straight out of his eyes and started to ask, but Fudge wasn't cooperating with Sirius' attempts to be polite. "What are you doing here?" the smaller man demanded. "We were attempting to have a private meeting--"

"Last I checked, the name on the house's title read 'Black,'" Sirius retorted coldly, struggling to rein his temper back before it jumped completely out of the cage.

"That doesn't give you a right--"

"It gives me the right to do whatever the hell I please," Sirius cut him off. "And I do believe you were just discussing my Aurors, so by all means, please continue. Do tell me what you think."

Fudge should have listened to the warning in his voice. Even as the words came out, Sirius knew that he should stop himself, but somehow he could not. Nor did he want to.

"Well, if you insist, I do believe that you led the Aurors into an unmitigated disaster," Fudge replied importantly. "Seven dead--"

"Eight. Clara Smythe died this morning."

"There you have it! If someone doesn't stop you, you'll destroy all that the Aurors have fought to rebuild! You're almost single-handedly turning--" Fudge cut himself off as Sirius stepped close to him.

"What?" he asked softly, looking down into the other's suddenly frightened eyes. "Turning the world over to Voldemort? Is that what you were going to say?"

Fudge whimpered. "I..."

"You were just leaving," Sirius continued.

"I..." The politician mumbled something else unintelligible, then bolted, having to try twice before he managed to open the door. Sirius watched him go, but did not bother to follow. He was sure that Fudge would find his own way out.

"Sirius..." The soft voice startled him; he hadn't even noticed when James wheeled himself out from behind the desk and close to Sirius' side. "Are you sure you're okay?"

The deep breath was suddenly hard to suck in and let out. "Yes..."

"We need to talk," James whispered.

"Yeah," Sirius breathed, closing his eyes as he spoke. Those were the words he'd been dreading for months, but he had known they must come. He swallowed. "But not now."

He couldn't deal with this now, not this way. There was too much to sort out in his own head to explain to James, too much mystery and too much power. Sirius had made a mistake and he knew it, but at least it had been a conscious one. At least this is my choice. Still the temper bubbled beneath the surface, and he felt the change beginning.

"Tonight," James replied immediately.

Sirius shook his head. "Tomorrow."

"Remus and Peter--"

"I know. But just the four of us. Tomorrow night."

Suddenly, a hand landed on his arm. "We're here for you, Sirius. No matter what."

"Tell me that tomorrow."

--------------

Sirius returned to Avalon feeling even more drained than he had when he left. There was something exhausting about talking to his best friend, something mind numbing about acting normal. He had a headache.

Unfortunately, the first encounter on Avalon was no better. And these people did not trust Sirius by default--at least not any more. Not like this.

It started when Sirius reached inside his robes and felt the presence of that folded piece of parchment. He'd managed to forget all about it--having miraculously managed not to coat this set of robes in blood, which would have made him change clothes and probably forget all about the paper they'd found inside the Riddle House. At the time, more important matters had intruded, but now... Without even stepping outside the Primary Apparation Center, Sirius pulled the parchment free of his inner pocket and began to unfold it.

The vibrant blue of water was the first feature to catch his eye, and immediately Sirius knew that he was looking at a Wizarding map of the oldest and finest kind. The parchment and the vivid colors gave it away before he even started to study the landscape; today, mapmakers rarely bothered with such detail. Their lines were never so fine, never so hand drawn. Wands did the work these days, blasted lines onto paper in a matter of seconds so that the mapmaker could move on. But this...this was different. Hand worked. Handmade. Absolutely beautiful.

A jagged coastline ran around the bottom right hand side of the page, curling up and down and bleeding off of the edge of the map. As Sirius watched, the waves almost seemed to lap gently against the shore as if he were looking down from above instead of at a simple piece of parchment. The grass beyond the rocky beach--some of which looked like a cliff--was lush and green. It appeared to be long and dancing in a slight breeze. No road or path marred the green ocean; there was simply a gray stone house perhaps a mile from the ragged cliff's edge.

A palace, more like. Imposing and grand, the "house" resembled a stronghold straight out of medieval times. For a moment, the castle reminded him of Hogwarts, the only castle Sirius had ever spent significant time in, but it was simpler. Darker. More sinister, somehow, for all its beauty. There was a great statue in the courtyard, made of marble, but it was too distant to identify.

Curiously, Sirius reached out and lightly touched fingers to the map--not his wand; old maps did not work that way. They required human contact, human thought. In many ways, Sirius had based his contribution to the Marauder's Map on ancient mapmaking. His father had collected old Wizarding maps, and as a child it had been the one thing Sirius could share with the stern head of his family. He'd grown away from the maps, which he now regretted, but the knowledge had stayed within him. And he knew quality when he saw it.

The castle's image filled the page, details coming into focus and lines becoming sharper. The structure was even larger than he'd thought, with a beautifully crafted stone wall surrounding the castle and standing at least twenty feet high. But it was the statue that caught his eye, the exquisitely carved image of a man that seemed almost alive.

"Bloody hell." He was too shocked to say anything more profane.

The statue was of Salazar Slytherin.

--------------

"It is a pleasure, Minister Potter," the Frenchman said, bowing slightly. The grace with which he moved made unfair resentment flare in James--yet again, he wished that he could do so, but being in that frustrating wheelchair kept James from doing almost anything he wanted to.

It also made Apparating hellishly difficult, but he'd made it to Paris anyway. Peter had shown up a few minutes after Sirius (both had been darn lucky to find James awake at six in the morning), but Fudge had woken him up with a Fire Call at five thirty, and James was still quite bitter over that. Thankfully, one of the few things he liked about France was the absence of Cornelius Fudge.

"Thank you," was all James could say, feeling the giddy kind of euphoria that only worked when you were completely exhausted yet excited beyond belief. Still, he grinned and did not care about regaining his composure. "Thank you for everything."

Legarde smiled a bit sheepishly. "It was time."

"Yes, Monsieur le President, it was," James agreed. "Now, though, I think we have a beginning."

"A good beginning," the other added, and James read resolve in his eyes. "Please. We are allies now, in all that comes. Call me Eugène."

"James."

The two leaders smiled at each other, and James saw fear lurking behind the resolve--but all men feared. Those who overcame it were stronger for the effort, and Eugène Legarde had done so. Unlike James, the French president was no warrior; he had risen to his office through diplomacy and political successes, not as one of the few constants in a two decade long war. But Legarde was still strong, and that was all that mattered.

"We should make the announcement together," Legarde said suddenly. "From your Ministry. It is time that our people remember that the magical world is not defined by Muggle boundaries, and that we must stand together...or fall together."

And how many times did Peter say that before it got through your thick skull? James thought to himself, but smiled outwardly. The end was what mattered. "And so we shall," Wizarding Britain's Minister of Magic replied. "We shall stand together."

--------------

"Are you finished?" Sirius asked quietly, bringing his head up from staring at the map again. In many ways, it was almost impossible to believe--further study of the map had revealed that the interior of the castle was also detailed, and he'd continued to explore that while the others had argued. It had also given him an excuse to ignore the hundreds of questions, spoken by almost every Auror--

"Are we finished?" Jason Clearwater demanded furiously. "What right do you have to ask that? Four hours ago, you arrived on Avalon looking like you were going to die, and now you expect us to believe that everything is fine? 'Your' lab stinks of Dark Magic, and--"

"Jason!" Hestia's furious voice cut through her student's rant, but her eyes were every bit as angry as Clearwater's. Sirius knew that Jones had not stopped Clearwater for his sake, either--she was only shutting Jason up so Alice could talk. The pair had only just arrived on Avalon, probably moments before Sirius had returned, but they'd already been sucked into the conflict.

Too bad I took that walk around Muggle London to calm myself down, Sirius thought distantly. I might have stopped this before it spiraled out of control.

But no. He couldn't. It had been out of control since he'd walked away from Frank and Alice at six o'clock that morning.

"You owe us answers, Sirius." The number two Auror in the division spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking the steel in her voice.

Slowly, he lowered the map to the table, careful to fold it along the same lines as before--old folds, which must have been there for centuries. "Perhaps I do," Sirius acknowledged evenly, sitting back in his hair. "But I'm afraid that it's not going to be something you want to hear."

Sirius crossed his hands on top of the map and waited for the explosion. Angry glares, however, did not translate into more shouting. Instead, Alice continued

"I doubt that there is something we can like less than you practicing Dark Magic," Alice pointed out. "And hiding it from us."

"You would have stopped me, would you not have?"

"Probably."

"There you have it, then."

A rumble ran around the table, a quiet one that nonetheless did little to hide the strain everyone was feeling. They were down to twenty-five Aurors after injuries and deaths, but every one of them was in the room. Four others had been moved to St. Mungo's because of the severity of their injuries, and Sirius knew that at least one of them would be lost forever. Gabriel Binns had been blinded by shrapnel, and unless the healers at St. Mungo's could work a miracle, he would stay that way for life. Terry Scott's torn face was responding well to healing, yet he'd still be there for weeks. The same went for Derek Dawlish, whose internal injuries were severe enough that Sirius was still surprised he'd survived, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had lost his wand arm and wand during the attack.

But twenty-four other Aurors were staring at Sirius with narrowed eyes. "What have you done?" Frank finally asked, his voice more pleading than cold--and frightened, Sirius realized.

He shivered. Is this how they see me?

"I have done what is necessary," Sirius replied quietly. "No more...no less."

He paused. Took a deep breath as they stared. Let it out.

"For years we have fought Voldemort. Countless would-be 'heroes' have attempted to defeat him, either on their own or with others. But they always did so conventionally, thinking that the right spell, the right moment, or the right motivation would slay him. It was as if deserving to win would make it happen.

"Hundreds have died this way. Even Dumbledore, for all his strength, fell into the same trap. No one--not once--has been willing to take the necessary steps, to affect the necessary change, to defeat Voldemort.

"This is what I have done," Sirius said quietly. "This is what I will continue to do."

"But you..." Tonks started in a half-whisper, then trailed off when Sirius shook his head.

"You have trusted me in the past," he continued. "And I have never betrayed that trust. I must ask you now to continue that trust... No matter what may come."

Silence greeted his words, until finally, Alice nodded.

"We have trusted you thus far, and no one has done what you have done. You faced have Voldemort three times...three times face to face, and survived. If that is not the mark of a man we should trust, I do not know what is." She nodded again.

"I will support you."

"As will I," Frank said quietly. The others followed, and twenty-two voices concurred. The immediate reaction made Sirius blink--he'd not expected acceptance, nor understanding. In fact, he would not have been surprised if he had been forced to leave Avalon. Sirius understood the danger in what he was doing, and that the Aurors did not dabble in such magic. Even Moody had not.

And he had the distinct impression that his Mentor would not be proud of him now.

--------------

"Transit umbra, lux permanent," James began, looking out at the sea of reporters and not reading from his notes. "Shadow passes, light remains."

To his left, Eugène Legarde continued. "Almost two thousand years ago, Gaius Julius Caesar Octavius Augustus caused the creation of les Aurors. Their purpose, he said, was to guard the world from evil. Tout le monde--the entire world. Not just one corner."

James picked up speaking once again.

"Over the centuries, the once strong Roman Empire splintered into independent nations. The Wizarding world did the same. We fought wars with each other, and fought wars on our own. The unity against darkness failed.

"But no longer." James leaned forward, peering closely at the crowd. "The divisions end here. Hope is not lost, so long as we have one friend to stand beside us--and Wizarding Britain has found that friend. We no longer stand alone."

"This morning," Legarde explained, "we have signed a treaty. Magical France and Magical Britain will stand together against evil, honoring the oldest and finest traditions of the Wizarding World. We hope that other nations will heed the call, and awaken as France has. Too long has your nation borne this burden alone." He smiled. "Today, the shadow passes."

--------------

"The Distance Seeing Charm," Dung Fletcher said without preamble. "Mandatus Prospicio Subigum."

Sirius' head snapped up from his half-eaten dinner, his eyes going wide. "What?" he managed.

"I never remembered hearing the incantation, but I know I must have."

Sirius stared. Dung stood in the half-open doorway of the Old Suite, where Sirius had retreated to eat in peace. Doing so had not helped much; though he'd skipped lunch to listen to James' speech on the WWN, Sirius found that he wasn't very hungry. He hadn't eaten in even more hours than he'd been awake, but his stomach was strangely quiet. The lack of hunger, however, had been merely disquieting. This was downright frightening.

It was more the emptiness in Dung's voice than anything else, more the fact that the man who'd left the Aurors forever had come back to Avalon. And there was something terrified in Fletcher's eyes, amid the pain. Pain?

"Come in, Dung," Sirius said around the sudden tightness in his throat. "Please. And sit down."

Noticeably, Hogwarts' Dark Arts professor closed the door behind him, before unsteadily wandering over to a giant armchair and sinking into it. He was silent for a long moment while Sirius waited, and finally the younger man could wait no longer.

"What are you saying?" he asked, but never even heard the last two words of his own sentence.

"I know you will resist me," the quiet voice said in his ear as Sirius struggled for air. "The strength of will that you possess is the likes of which I have seldom seen."

Cold fingers stroked his cheek and Sirius tried to jerk away, but the chains held him fast. He was flat on his back, held to a metal table with burning restraints that had tightened so much he could hardly breathe. And the effort it took to fight back that spell again and again was mind numbing. How many more...?

"But it is not enough," Voldemort whispered. "You know this. I know this. It is only a matter of time."

A frigid smile. He could barely make it out through eyes blurred by exhaustion and agony.

"And a matter of pain."

Sirius coughed. Speaking burned, but he'd resisted this long. "I--"

Something slammed into his mouth the moment he spoke, cold metal and fiery pain. He screamed and tasted blood, choked on the salty taste and then screamed again when the pain increased. Something wrapped around the back of his head, and agony tore through his tongue and jaw. He could not stop screaming.

"Oh, yes." Distantly, he heard the voice. "How much pain can you take before you stop fighting?"

"Crucio!" Another voice. Bellatrix? "Rodolphus? Through his pain, Sirius couldn't even tell if it was male or female. Only that it wasn't his voice."

Agony. Blackness. Blood pouring down his throat. It went on and on.

And then the cold words:

"Mandatus Prospicio Subigum!"

"Sirius? Are you all right?" Dung shook his arm, and Sirius yanked away without thinking, breathing hard. A long moment passed before he felt securely in the present once more.

"Sorry." He swallowed. "Memory."

But why now? He had no answer, did not know why it was so perfectly clear. For months, Sirius had thought the memories were behind him, thought that he had moved on. But not now.

"I know that feeling," the other breathed, and suddenly Sirius remembered what had triggered the memory. He swung around to face Dung once more, his own experiences forgotten.

"The incantation. What about it?"

Dung took a shuddering breath; he was pale now. "The Distance Seeing Enchantment," he said softly. "When you first mentioned it, months ago, something struck me...but I remembered nothing. Now, though..."

"Now?" Sirius felt his chest go tight.

"Someone betrayed the Riddle House Raid. I think it was me."

---------------

Ye Old Other Author's Note: Here it comes--two chapters to go, and they'll be out before 2005. So stay tuned for PR42: To Strive To Seek, To Find, and please let me know what you think of this one. Thanks again for reading, and Happy Holidays.